The Revolutionary and the Temp

Written for actors Chris Ross and Whitney Porter as part of Spontaneous Combustion,
an occasional festival of short plays organized by Manhattan Theatre Source in which writers
are given a first line, a cultural reference, and two actors on a Friday night, and the task
of writing a five-minute play for them by the next day at noon. Rehearsals and minor
revisions take place for the next day and a half, and the plays go live on Sunday evening.

Setting: A corporate office.

Characters:
CHRIS, a revolutionary leader, wearing a business suit and a beret or some
such combination of business and revolutionary attire; WHITNEY, a temp, dressed
in classic business casual.

Whitney: So
what do you want me to do? It really doesn't matter to me. I'm
real good with computers. I can write, edit, do HTML, PHP. I'm
awesome with PHP. You can do anything with PHP. I know MySQL,
if you need any database stuff...

Chris: Silence!

Whitney: I
beg your pardon?

Chris: The
People's Revolutionary Front has no use for idle prattle!

Whitney: Hey,
you're not paying me enough to...

Chris: You
will not be paid! Serving the revolution is its own reward! Are
you trying to reproduce bourgeois labor relations right here in our mountain
stronghold?

Whitney: Mountain
stronghold? Well, I mean, we're on the 34th floor, I don't know if that's,
I mean, whatever, erm, could we go back to that part about not getting paid?

Chris: What
are you doing here? Who sent you?

Whitney: Labor-Pro
Temp Agency.

Chris: You're
not CIA?

Whitney: No.

Chris: NSA?

Whitney: No.

Chris: FBI?

Whitney: No.

Chris: Do
you swear?

Whitney: Yes.

Chris: I'll
be able to tell if you're lying. I can always tell. Now I will
ask you again. Are you CIA?

Whitney: Yes.

Chris: I
knew it!

Whitney: Ha!
I was lying! Of course I'm not CIA. I'm a temp!

Chris: I
knew that, I knew that. I could tell that, I could easily tell.
I was kidding. It was a joke.

Whitney: OK.
So what do you want me to do?

Chris: I
want you to be in charge of revolutionary discipline. The movement is
growing and I can no longer do everything myself. I've got battle plans
to form, platoons to organize, anger to foment. I'd like you to focus
on shooting deserters.

Whitney: Ooh,
I don't know. You mean really shoot real deserters?

Chris: Of
course.

Whitney: Isn't
there any typing I could do?

Chris: You
must understand the only punishment for betraying the revolution is death.

Whitney: Is
there a warning system at all? Written reprimand? Employee file?
Three strikes you're out?

Chris: No
no. You're out right away, on strike one. Boom. Death.

Whitney: Harsh.

Chris: It's
the revolutionary code.

Whitney: Sounds
a little unfair.

Chris: Silence!
It's fair. It is beyond fair. It's the fairest system there is.

Whitney: The
fairest of them all?

Chris: Beg
your pardon?

Whitney: You
know, mirror mirror on the wall?

Chris: What
are you prattling on about?

Whitney: Nothing.
I just thought I'd throw that in there.

Chris: Whatever.

Whitney: So
anyway, you have these deserters and you want me to, uhhh...

Chris: Shoot
them.

Whitney: Wow.

Chris: Yes.

Whitney: I've
actually never, erm, never done that.

Chris: We
do train.

Whitney: Good.
Thank you. But it's not really my...I mean, don't you guys have a website
or anything? I could build you one. Interactive site? Connect
with your membership? Track your user base?

Chris: No,
I really just need a shooter.

Whitney: Get
your message out? Snappy domain name? I think, you know, a revolution
these days is going to need a web presence.

Chris: We're
not about that dot com shit. Are you going to shoot him or not?

Whitney: Shoot
whom?

Chris: Him.
Over there. In the corner.

Whitney: What,
under that blanket?

Chris: Yes,
he's tied up there. We brought him back this morning.

Whitney: I
don't know...

Chris: God,
these temp agencies are useless!

Whitney: Look,
I may be a mercenary, but, I mean, I have my limits. I am not going
to just shoot somebody, without pay, without even knowing why.

Chris: For
betraying the revolution!

Whitney: What
revolution?!

Chris: The
people's revolution to overthrow this war-mongering corporate oligarchy!

Whitney: You
mean like bust through all this consumer-culture crap?

Chris: Yes!
And liberate the true potential of the human spirit!

Whitney: End
the tyranny of fear?

Chris: Yes!
Exactly! Recognize our common interests and give full expression to
the power of love in human affairs!

Whitney: What
about using peaceful democratic processes?

Chris: Did
you not just see this election?

Whitney: Good
point. Still...

Chris: What
is it?

Whitney: I
just think, you know, a database-driven website, with a registered member
base and customized news feeds, I mean, you're not using all available tools
here.

Chris
pauses before answering.

Chris: Could
we have an e-newsletter?

Whitney: Easy.

Chris: Real-time
news about government atrocities in an attractive Flash display?

Chris: No
pay! It is an honor to serve the revolution! There are plenty
of beans, there is rice, we have many tents, quite a few cubicles...

Whitney: Yeah
but, the agency, there are rules you know.

Chris: Seven
dollars an hour.

Whitney: Eleven
fifty.

Chris: Silence!

Whitney: Eleven
fifty, it's not negotiable, that's the agency's rate.

Chris: Fine,
eleven fifty, but you disgust me.

Whitney: All
righty then. Here goes nothing! [She picks up the gun and aims
at the deserter.] 1...2...3...

-- LIGHTS OUT --

Comments

Name

Subject

Comment

27 April 2005 13:13:54John Schoneboom

Yes, it's that sixth minute that will bring a man down, no doubt about it. I recently entered a ten-minute play competition and was extremely apprehensive about all those extra minutes. I think I faltered in the sixth minute, visibly weakened in the seventh, and paled unutterably in the first half of the eighth minute before mounting a recovery. By the ninth minute I had rediscovered a sureness of voice, and the tenth minute, it goes without saying, knocks your eyes out. Once your eyes are knocked out I can write anything I like.

27 April 2005 11:59:46jonathan

I love these five-minute plays by the way and was going to write to you about them before these handy new comment boxes popped up (where did you get the idea from??!).

I think my favourite is the Revolutionary and the Temp. No, the Detective! No, the Perfect Hat! You see, my shrinking attention span is affecting my ability to choose a favourite among short pieces of drama. I am quite certain, however, in looking forward to the day I can sit in a smoky cellar somewhere in NYC and see them (and more like them) in the flesh.

Mind I will start twiddling my thumbs and coughing pointedly if any of them drag on into a sixth minute...